


Start of Something

by DashingApostate



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Mild Angst, Prompt Fill, Recent Established Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 10:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9890918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DashingApostate/pseuds/DashingApostate
Summary: Short fill for this prompt I received on Tumblr:"Oh my god! I thought you were going to die! Don't ever scare me like that again!"





	

Anders was no stranger to pain. He was no stranger to waking up with a fuzzy memory and a pounding temple. To the image flashes of Hawke-related tasks that found him in such a state far too often. To the arid, damp smell of Darktown.

He was, however, a complete stranger to the sight of Fenris' face hovering above his newly opened eyes, a look of concern so clearly etched between his dark brows.

"Hello," Anders offered, voice a bit weak. He cleared his throat.

"Hello, mage." Fenris' lips twitched.

"Where are we?"

"Your clinic."

"Huh," Anders swallowed. "And. How...exactly did I get here? I can't seem to remember."

"That would be because I had to carry you."

"Oh, well," Anders couldn't stop the smile that such an image brought him, the warm fondness that sparked in his chest, "that was rather chivalrous of you, wasn't it? Suppose I should thank you."

"You suppose?"

Anders had intended for a nonchalant shrug but ended up with a wince and grimaced rather pathetically instead. "Ow." His brain had just seemed to clue in that his shoulder was bloody _throbbing_.

And when he reached for it, his magic felt as faint as a doused ember, his connection to the Fade fuzzy and slow-forming under his skin.

"What happened, then? Is everyone else alright? Hawke and..." Anders turned his head to get a better look at Fenris, who had leaned back to a more appropriate distance, gauntlets crossed over his chest and a frown pulling at his mouth.

His eyes remained so steadily attached to Anders' own, so intense and searching, it made Anders' breath catch a bit as he trailed off.

It had been weeks since he and Fenris had been properly antagonistic. Months, more like.

They were... _companions_ , of a sort, recently. Perhaps maybe even friends. (Anders hoped.) That maybe, sometimes, shag. Occasionally. (Anders could confirm. And perhaps wished for more frequency.)

But they weren't...they didn't _do_ sappy soft looks of concern and, and -

Anders swallowed, feeling his face begin to heat rapidly under the intensity of Fenris' gaze.

"They are fine," Fenris finally said, "You took an arrow to the shoulder and lost consciousness shortly after. Hawke and Varric are with Aveline and Donnic, sorting through Kirkwall politics that are of little concern to us."

"Hm..." Anders grunted, dropping his eyes, his hand moving to feel along the messy bandage that covered his shoulder, hovering over the burning warmth of damaged tissue but unable to access his magic just yet. "It's a bit embarrassing really." He joked, to break the odd, foreign tension. "I have the distinct memory of yelling some insult or other at those bastards before everything went black. This hardly bodes well for my image."

Fenris chuckled, which made Anders' smile widen, the pain in his shoulder seeming to lessen.

"Your 'image' as a foolish derelict healer, you mean?"

Anders let out an indignant cough, but didn't argue for once. "You're unharmed?" He asked instead, looking Fenris over as his magic itched to give him a once-over.

"Worried?"

"What, me? Worry about some broody, mage-hating prat like you?" Anders knew his voice held no where near a convincing enough scoff, but then he was admitting, quite pathetically, "Yes actually. Endlessly so, in fact. Bit of a bloody fool after all, aren't I?"

Fenris' mouth twitched again, this time into a small smile, but it was tight at the edges. "You worry about everyone, mage. Even those you've never met." And there almost seemed to be an edge to Fenris' voice.

Anders exhaled a shaky laugh that made his sore shoulder ache, and he winced before offering up a cheeky smile. "Not true, ser. You'll be hard pressed to find me a templar to worry about. Unless of course -- they're after me. I might worry then. But just a bit." Maker he was rambling. He'd like to think it a side-effect of the blood loss, but it was more that Fenris was acting strangely. 

Not that that was terribly uncommon with the endlessly moody man. But his former life of enslavement unequivocally came with no small amount of hang-ups. It just drove Anders a bit mad that he could never get a proper read on him.

What Fenris did next left little to be interpreted, however.

His hand was gentle, warm, where he grazed Anders' cheek, leaning in to press a sound kiss to his lips. Any painful throbbing that Anders' shoulder gave in protest was ignored as he eagerly moved closer, a small sound of something like surprise and wanting caught in his throat.

When they parted Anders' felt breathless with the frantic beat of his heart, which seemed to somehow trip at the expression on Fenris' face.

"Don't scare me like that again." His deep voice was low, a small tremor breaking over his plea.

And Anders wished that he could promise Fenris that he wouldn't. That Justice and Hawke and Kirkwall would give him that choice, that he could keep Fenris from ever fearing for him again.

Instead, Anders pulled Fenris down for another kiss.


End file.
